Mending Fences: Part 2 of Thomas and Andy: A DA Love Story
by dustnik
Summary: Set in 1925. Andy helps Thomas repair his strained relationships with the other servants. Canon Divergence after Season 5. AU in which Andy is gay, and he and Thomas are together.


Andy Parker liked his life at Downton Abbey. He didn't mind the work, and he genuinely cared for the family and staff. In turn, the other members of the household appreciated the young man's open, uncomplicated nature and easy smile. He had fit in immediately and quickly became a favorite both upstairs and down. Andy was grateful for his new position, especially as it had brought him one Thomas Barrow.

He and Thomas were together now, or at least as much as they could be under the circumstances. Barrow insisted upon complete discretion, having been traumatized once by the threat of dismissal and prison and ruin. Andy understood and appreciated the older man's caution, knowing it was as much for his sake as it was for Thomas' own.

One night at dinner, he was seated opposite the underbutler at the long dining table, but farther down with the junior servants, while Thomas was higher up with the other senior members of staff. At the end of the table, sat the new hallboy, Kenny, who had arrived earlier that day. He looked very young and frightened. Andy knew what he was feeling, remembering his first job working for a wealthy family in London. At first, everything had seemed so cold and strange, and he felt very homesick, but in time, things got better for him as they would for Kenny too.

Andy listened in as the other hallboy, Peter, quietly confided his opinions on the senior staff to the new lad. "Mr. Carson is strict but fair, and Mrs. Hughes is nice, but it's Mr. Barrow you have to watch out for."

"Which one is he?" Kenny asked timidly.

"He's the nasty, dark-haired bloke next to Mrs. Hughes." He jerked his head in Thomas' direction. "If he's in one of his moods, it's best to stay out of his way."

Kenny nodded, his eyes wide with trepidation.

Andy frowned. He knew that Thomas had a difficult relationship with the other servants, especially the men who openly despised him. He tried to smooth things over for the prickly underbutler when he could, but Thomas didn't make it easy.

With dinner over and the family members in bed, the Bateses retired to their cottage while the older servants congregated in Mrs. Hughes sitting room for a nightcap before going up. Thomas' habit was to read the newspaper in a rocking chair in front of the fireplace. Everyone knew his routine and respected it, but on that night, he found his place already taken by Kenny who had the same idea. He glared in silence at the boy until he looked up from the paper. "Is something wrong, Mr. Barrow?" his voice quavered.

Andy saw what was happening and quickly stepped in. "Would you like to join us for cards, Kenny?" The hallboy was grateful for any excuse to escape Thomas' icy stare and hurriedly accepted. Thomas took his seat in the rocking chair with a loud harrumph. He carefully straightened out the newspaper, fixing Kenny with a disapproving frown and began to read.

The next morning, he opened his bedroom door to retrieve the new shoes he had set out the night before for the hallboys to clean. To his surprise, they weren't there. He hastily put on an old pair and made his way to the servants' hall where he found Peter and Kenny laying the table for the staff's breakfast. "Where are they?"

He was met with two blank, uncomprehending faces. "Where are what, Mr. Barrow?" Peter asked him.

"My shoes, of course. Where are they?" Both boys looked down at the underbutler's feet. "Not these—my new ones," Thomas said impatiently.

Just then, Andy wandered in. "Is something wrong, Mr. Barrow?"

"I left my shoes outside my door last night, and now they seemed to have mysteriously disappeared."

A look of slow realization crossed Kenny's face. "I-I brought them down to clean, but I guess I forgot. They're still in the boot room."

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Andy cut him off. "Why don't you get them now, Kenny?"

The hallboy hurried from the room and quickly returned with the shoes. Thomas took them from him with a look of amazement. "They're still not done?"

"Do you want me to clean them now, Mr. Barrow?" Kenny asked meekly.

"Never mind. I'll do it myself. You'd probably just cock it up." He turned and stomped out.

That night at dinner, Mr. Carson was ladling out hot soup from a heavy, iron pot. The two hallboys stood on either side of him, ready to distribute the soup to the waiting servants. Kenny carefully set a steaming bowl in front of Mrs. Hughes before returning for another. His hands shook nervously as he leaned in to serve Thomas. Somehow he lost his grip on the bowl, spilling the hot liquid into the underbutler's lap. Thomas leaped up in pain, hurling a curse at the horrified boy before quickly exiting the servants' hall. The others watched him go in shocked silence.

Andy rushed to the head of the table to take over for Kenny. "I'll serve, shall I, Mr. Carson?"

The flustered butler looked grateful. "Yes. Yes, thank you, Andrew."

Kenny returned to his place at the end of the table, his face a study in misery. He might as well start packing his things tonight. They'd never allow him to stay on now.

After dinner was over, Andy raced up the back stairs to check on Thomas. He found the other man coming out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. "Are you okay?"

Thomas indicated the red burns covering his thighs, causing Andy to wince. They did look very painful.

"Is it just your legs?"

"So you hope anyway," he replied slyly. "Can you find me something to eat? I'm starving."

Andy quickly returned with a tray containing a ham sandwich, a thick slab of chocolate cake, and a glass of milk. He found Thomas in his room propped up on his bed, his injured legs stretched out before him. "Daisy fixed this for you. She said she hopes you're alright."

The underbutler didn't answer but wolfed down the food greedily.

"I saw Kenny downstairs. He's sorry about what happened."

At the mention of the hallboy's name, Barrow uttered a profanity.

Andy tried again. "He feels terrible about it."

" _He_ feels terrible?" Thomas asked in amazement.

"You make him nervous."

"Oh, so it's _my_ fault."

"No, of course not, but you can be a bit, uh—intimidating sometimes. I think he's a little afraid of you."

"And so he should be," Thomas declared grumpily, looking down at his burned thighs.

"I'm just saying, maybe you could try to go a little easier on him. After all, he's just a lad."

Thomas didn't bother to reply.

Just then, there was a light knock on the open door. Both men looked up to see Kenny fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway. "I hope you're not badly hurt, Mr. Barrow."

"Not too bad, I think," Thomas admitted grudgingly.

The boy looked contrite. "I'm awfully sorry. I don't know how it happened."

Andy gave Thomas a pleading look meant to appeal to his better nature. Thomas sighed. "It's alright, Kenny. You should go to bed now." The hallboy looked relieved and continued on to his room.

Andy smiled proudly. "That was nice of you."

"I did it for you, not for him."

"When your legs feel better, there's something I can do for you too, and I'm pretty sure you're going to enjoy it."

Thomas smiled broadly. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

One afternoon while relaxing in the servants' hall, Mr. Bates shared a humorous anecdote from his days in the South African war. It made the others sitting around the table break into laughter. Andy noticed Thomas standing with his back against the wall, quietly sipping his tea. He knew that Thomas often felt like an outsider and attempted to draw the underbutler into the conversation. "Mr. Barrow, tell us a funny story from your army days."

Thomas replied dryly, "I'm afraid my time in the medical corps wasn't nearly as entertaining as Mr. Bates'." The valet fixed Thomas with an icy glare while Andy inwardly cringed. He knew that of all the servants, Thomas reserved the most ill-will for Bates. The two shared a long history of mutual dislike and mistrust, but Andy never knew the reason why.

A short time later, spotting Thomas smoking in the kitchen courtyard, Andy was determined to find out. "Why don't you like Mr. Bates?" Receiving no reply, the younger man continued. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Plenty," Thomas grumbled, taking a long pull from his cigarette.

"Like what?"

"He only took my job, didn't he?"

Andy waited for the underbutler to explain.

"I was filling in as Lord Grantham's valet after Mr. Watson left. We were alright together, His Lordship and me, until one day Bates showed up, and I went back to being a footman."

"What's wrong with being a footman?" Andy grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

Thomas wasn't about to be placated. "I wanted that job, and it should have been mine. I got another chance when he was in prison, but the bastard got released, and I was just supposed to go out the window."

Andy was confused. "I thought that had to do with that business with Jimmy."

"No, but that was the reason I wasn't going to be given a reference when I left."

"You never did tell me why Jimmy changed his mind and let you stay on."

"The person behind it all talked him into it." He had never told Andy that he was beaten by a woman. He would be too ashamed.

"What made them do that?"

"I gave Mr. Bates a phrase to tell them that would've gotten them sacked without a reference right along with me if he had gone to Lord Grantham."

"So Mr. Bates saved you?"

How could Thomas explain to someone like Andy how humiliating it was to be forced to accept help from a man he despised, a man he had plotted against and tried to ruin? The fact that he owed his present good fortune to his sworn enemy made him angry rather than grateful.

Andy read his thoughts. "Did you ever properly thank him?"

Thomas knew that the young footman's moral compass pointed straight north while his often strayed in the other direction, and because he saw the world in terms of black and white, Andy would never understand the ethical gray area in which he often found himself. "What good would it do?"

Andy sighed. He loved Thomas but found him infuriating at times. "But you're an underbutler. You outrank Mr. Bates. What difference does all that make now?"

"You wouldn't understand," Thomas replied dismissively.

Andy bristled at that. "Why? Because I'm too young and stupid to possibly comprehend the complex mind of Thomas Barrow?"

Thomas looked at him in open-mouthed surprise and reached out for the other man's arm. "I'm sorry, Andy. I didn't mean it like that. I don't think you're stupid, but you are very young, and there are things you don't know yet about the way the world works."

Andy pulled away and returned inside, fighting off tears of anger.

Thomas watched him go. He thought about following but decided it better to leave the younger man alone. Later, he nicked a couple of macarons intended for the upstairs dinner and slipped them into his pocket. He found the footman returning to the kitchen with the remains of the family's tea. "I pinched these for you." He proffered the dainties, but Andy only shook his head. Thomas insisted. "Go on. I know they're your favorite."

"I'm not a child."

"I already said I'm sorry. What can I do to make it better?" Thomas queried.

Andy didn't reply and continued on to the kitchen. He managed to successfully avoid being alone with Thomas for the rest of the day.

That night, the underbutler waited until everyone was in bed and slipped silently into Andy's room. "Are you asleep?"

"Yes," Andy mumbled, his face to the wall.

Thomas smiled and eased himself down onto the other man's cot. He ran his hand over Andy's dark cap of curls. "I know you're upset, but I am sorry, truly."

Andy rolled over to face him. "You don't respect me. You think because I'm young that I don't know anything, but you're wrong. I could help you if you'd only let me."

"I do respect you, but we're very different people, and we see the world differently."

Andy silently acknowledged the truth of his words, but he stubbornly insisted, "I'm right about Mr. Bates."

"Do you want me to stay for a while?"

"I think I'd rather be alone."

Thomas sighed, and after making sure that there was no one in the corridor, he returned to his room.

The next morning, he entered the servants' hall and stood behind his chair before breakfast. He looked down the long table to see Andy standing with downcast eyes looking uncharacteristically glum. It was clear that the footman wasn't ready to forgive him. Next to arrive were the Bateses who had walked over from their cottage nearby. Anna moved to her place beside Thomas while her husband stood on the other side of the table. Thomas took a deep breath before speaking. "Hello, Mr. Bates. It's a lovely morning, isn't it?" He hoped his smile looked more sincere than it felt.

All the early morning chatter ceased instantly, and the room became eerily quiet. Mr. Bates' dark eyes narrowed warily. "Yes. Yes, it is."

"I don't think we'll have any rain today, do you?"

At that moment Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes walked in and everyone took their seats, sparing the valet any need to reply. Thomas turned toward Andy and was happy to see that he was smiling up at him once again. Yes, it was a lovely morning indeed.

* * *

Things between Thomas and Andy had settled into a comfortable routine. During the day, they observed a strict servant hierarchy. Thomas was careful not to show the younger man any extra attention or extend to him any special privileges, but at night, he would slip into Andy's room after everyone was asleep, so they could spend time alone together. Their earlier misunderstanding seemed to be resolved, or so Thomas believed.

But Andy hadn't been able to silence the small part of him that said Thomas didn't take him or what they had together seriously. He knew that the underbutler cared for him, but he had never spoken of their future together. Although Andy often told Thomas that he loved him, he had never heard those three words repeated back. He sometimes wondered if Thomas was with him simply out of convenience.

One night, the two lay spent in each other's arms in Andy's narrow bed. "Do you think the others know about us?" Andy mused.

Thomas smiled ruefully in the dark. "After what happened with Jimmy, they probably assume I try to seduce all the young men around here. I'm surprised they didn't warn you about me."

"Some of them did actually," Andy admitted.

Thomas gave a little laugh. "As I recall, it was you who made the first move."

"Someone had to, and you were being so slow about it." Andy smiled, remembering the night he first declared his love for the other man. "So do you think they know about us?" he asked again.

Thomas was always careful not to draw attention to their relationship, but Andy was less discrete, much to Thomas' dismay. It hadn't been that long since he had faced dismissal and a possible prison sentence. He didn't want to go through that ever again, and he certainly didn't want it for Andy either. "I guess most of them know or at least suspect."

Andy raised himself on one elbow and turned to Thomas. "Why do you think they allow it?"

Thomas hesitated. "As long as they don't see anything, they can pretend it's not true."

"Or maybe they just want us to be happy."

Thomas didn't believe anyone really cared about his happiness.

Andy added. "It's kind of them, though."

Thomas never thought of his fellow servants as kind, not to him at least. With the exception of a few of the women and Andy, of course, no one bothered with him much, but then he didn't care for them either, so he supposed that made them even. "I'd better get back to my room now."

"Can't you stay a bit longer?" Andy begged.

"If I do, I'll fall asleep, and you know I can't be seen coming out of your room in the morning." Thomas kissed the other man a quick goodnight before exiting. Andy lay awake in the dark for a long time thinking about his complicated relationship with Thomas before finally falling into a troubled sleep.

The next evening, the two were outside in the courtyard taking advantage of the exceptionally fine weather. Andy wanted to discuss his concerns but was afraid of appearing soppy in Thomas' eyes. "Something's been bothering me, and I need to talk to you about it. It's sort of important."

"I'm listening."

Andy was still searching for a way to begin when he heard a male voice behind them call out, "Hello." He turned to see a rather short, blond man approaching them and watched as Thomas' face dissolved into a huge smile.

"Jimmy! What are you doing here?"

So this was Jimmy. This was the man who had managed to capture Thomas' elusive heart and caused him all that pain. Andy understood now what had attracted Thomas to him. He was very handsome, small and fair-haired with blue eyes and delicate, almost girlish features. "I was up this way, so I thought I'd look in to see how you were getting on without me," the visitor replied.

"I haven't heard from you since you wrote about your engagement. When's the big day?"

"Oh, that." Jimmy looked at the ground in embarrassment. "It seems she changed her mind. She said she needs a steadier chap, whatever that means." He kicked the bricks with his toe. "I couldn't stay on there after that, could I? So now I'm out of work. Do you think they'd consider giving me my old job back?"

Thomas' smile dimmed. "The thing is, uh—Andy here took your place."

Jimmy fixed Andy with a cool, appraising stare: tall, skinny, kind of funny looking. "I just thought I'd ask," he mumbled.

"Where are you staying?"

"At the Grantham Arms. I got a room there for the night, but I'll be leaving in the morning."

Thomas' smile faltered, but he forced an air of gaiety into his voice. "Then we must make the most of tonight."

"Can you get away?" Jimmy asked dubiously.

Thomas laughed. "As you of all people should know, it won't be the first time I've sneaked out after curfew. What do you say, Andy? Are you willing to risk Carson's wrath?"

Andy was surprised that Thomas even remembered he was there. "I guess so."

Thomas turned back to Jimmy and said, "So we'll see you later tonight." Jimmy gave him a questioning glance before turning and walking away. The underbutler watched him go until he was completely out of sight, his gray eyes alive with anticipation. To Andy, it looked like he was as much in love with Jimmy as ever. Thomas suddenly remembered that Andy had something on his mind. "Now what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"It can wait." Andy felt like he was going to be sick.

After the household was asleep, Thomas and Andy tiptoed stealthily down the myriad flights of dark, poky stairs. They sneaked out the back door and made their way to the pub where they found Jimmy sitting at a table, several empty glasses lined up in front of him. "You started without us, I see," Thomas observed dryly. He motioned for the proprietor to bring them a round of ale.

Jimmy lifted the foamy pint to his mouth. "What's new at the Abbey?" His speech was already sounding slurred.

Thomas took a deep gulp of beer before replying. "No one talks about anything except the upcoming wedding of Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. I told you about that in my last letter, didn't I?"

Andy was surprised to learn that Thomas still kept in contact with Jimmy.

"Yes, but I thought you must be joking. I mean how old are they anyway—a hundred? Imagine anyone wanting to marry Carson."

"Didn't you like him?" Andy asked curiously.

Jimmy looked at the footman as if just realizing he was there. "Well, he didn't like me much—or Thomas either for that matter, but I bet he likes you right enough."

"Why do you say that?" Andy inquired.

"Just a feeling, that's all." He turned his attention back to Thomas. "He liked Alfred too. Do you ever hear from that sad old beanpole?"

Thomas nodded. "Daisy gets a letter from him every now and then. He's a sous chef at the Ritz Hotel in London."

"Alright for some."

"Ivy's still in New York. She married that valet of Lady Grantham's brother. What was his name—Slate, Slade?"

"He's welcome to her. She was nothing but a tease."

Thomas chuckled. "You only say that because you didn't get anywhere with her."

"When a bloke spends all that time and money on a girl, he expects something in return."

"You can't complain about that where Lady Anstruther is concerned. Is she still chasing after you?"

"She doesn't know where to find me now."

Andy ordered another round of drinks. This was a different Thomas than the one he was used to. He was happier and more relaxed than Andy had ever seen him. He and Jimmy seemed to have a lot to talk about.

Jimmy was definitely well away now. "I suppose it's different with two men. You can get it anytime you want." He looked knowingly from Thomas to Andy.

Thomas smiled bemusedly. "It doesn't work quite like that. And keep your voice down. I'm not prepared to take another beating for you."

Jimmy turned to Andy. "Did he ever tell you about that?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued. "We were all at a fair in Thirsk where I'd won ten quid on a bet. He was following me because he saw I had a little too much to drink and was flashing my money about."

"You never could hold your liquor," Thomas interjected.

"These two big blokes jumped me and tried to rob me, but Thomas stepped in, and I got away. They beat him up pretty bad. His face was cut and bruised for weeks. Carson was furious."

"But your pretty face was spared," Thomas said with a grin.

Andy couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was forming a picture of Jimmy that was far from flattering. "You mean you let another man take a beating for you while you ran away? You didn't even stay to help him?"

Thomas shook his head. "No, I told him to go, or what was the point?"

Jimmy glared at Andy, his anger mixed with a dose of shame. "There's a poker game going on in the back. Why don't we get in on it?" He started to get up but fell back in his seat.

Thomas put a warning hand on Andy's shoulder. "Andy isn't gambling," Thomas informed him. Jimmy merely scoffed as the older man continued. "I don't think it would be a good idea for you to play either, not in the shape you're in."

"What's happened to you since I left? You used to be up for anything."

"I've been through a lot." Thomas was remembering the week of electrotherapy he received in London and the weeks of pain and sickness he endured afterward, all to get over his feelings for Jimmy and change what he was.

"Has _he_ turned you into a bleeding boy scout?" Jimmy jerked his head at Andy.

Andy wanted to strike the man, but he knew it wouldn't be fair. Jimmy was much shorter than he and very drunk. Besides which, he was afraid that Thomas would defend Jimmy again, and that he really couldn't bear to see. "I'm leaving."

"Andy?" Thomas looked a question.

"Are you coming?"

The underbutler looked torn while Jimmy fixed Andy with a smug smile.

"Sod you, Thomas." The young man fumed the entire way back to the Abbey. Sleep eluded him, and just before dawn, he heard the sound of his bedroom door being slowly opened. He pretended to be asleep and heard it softly close again.

That morning at breakfast, Thomas appeared, looking as tired as Andy felt. Mrs. Hughes was quick to notice. "You look as if you didn't sleep well, Mr. Barrow. Maybe you're coming down with something."

"I'm just fine, thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

The two men spent the day carefully avoiding each other, both performing their duties as if in a trance. That night after the family was in bed, Thomas came up behind the footman and hissed. "I need to see you in the yard—now."

"Is that an order, _Mr._ Barrow?"

"It's a strong request."

Andy knew that Thomas would keep after him until he agreed, so he grudgingly followed the underbutler outside. Once they were far enough from the house to avoid being heard, Thomas turned angrily to him. "Why did you storm off like that last night? It was embarrassing."

"Because if I had stayed, I would have punched your little friend, Jimmy, right in his 'pretty face.' "

"He was drunk. He didn't mean any harm."

"He knew what he was doing."

"And what was that?" Thomas asked dryly.

"He was letting me know that he could take you from me if he wanted to, that he would always come first with you."

"That's ridiculous. Why would I choose him over you?"

"Because you're still in love with him."

Thomas took a step back, and Andy pressed his advantage. "What were you doing all night? I heard you come in at dawn."

"I was with Jimmy, talking in his room."

"Talking—all night?"

"What did you think we were doing? Jimmy's not like us you know. He's a ladies' man."

"I'm not so sure of that."

"Well, I am. And he was too drunk to get up to much even if he had wanted to."

"What did you talk about?"

"He was torn up about losing that girl he was going to marry. He just wanted a shoulder to cry on—a friend—no more than that."

Andy felt his anger dissipate. He supposed everyone could use a friend sometimes, even Jimmy Kent, and Thomas could be a very good friend. "That's all?"

Thomas smiled sweetly. "We talked about you too. I told him how wonderful you are and how good you've been for me."

"You really said that?"

"And you're wrong about something else. I'm not in love with Jimmy anymore."

"But you were so happy to see him, and you had such a good time together."

"We're just friends."

"But—"

"I'm with you now."

* * *

Thomas stood in the bathroom in front of the glass carefully studying his reflection. He frowned with displeasure. The gray had begun creeping into his dark hair on the sides. He also noticed that the lines on his forehead were becoming deeper while his jaw line was starting to soften. With a sigh, he pulled in his belly and exited the room. Upon entering the servants' hall, he saw that everyone was already busily enjoying their breakfast. "Late again, I see," the butler observed dryly.

"Sorry, Mr. Carson," Thomas apologized. He had hoped that the older man's approaching marriage might put him in a better mood, but it appeared to make him even more irascible than ever. He poured himself a cup of tea and reached for a slice of toast. A bowl of thick porridge was set before him.

Andy looked on with concern. He knew that something was bothering Thomas lately, something he wasn't sharing with him He was still turning it over in his mind later when he and Mr. Molesley were clearing after the upstairs breakfast. Molesley broke in on his thoughts to tell him of an odd request that the underbutler had made to him the night before. "Mr. Barrow asked me if I still had any of the hair dye I once used on myself."

"Hair dye? Did you give it to him?"

"I couldn't. I threw it all out," Molesley replied with a shudder, remembering its disastrous results.

"What would he want with hair dye?" Andy mused.

"I suppose he just wants to look younger."

"But Mr. Barrow isn't old."

"How old is he anyway?"

"I'm not sure." Andy knew that Thomas was much older than himself, but it never really mattered. Could this be what was bothering him?

After luncheon, Andy spotted him outside in the kitchen courtyard smoking and joined him there. He decided to get right to the point. "Mr. Molesley told me you asked him for hair dye."

Thomas didn't reply. Why couldn't Molesley ever keep his mouth shut?

"I like the bits of gray in your hair. It makes you look distinguished."

The underbutler laughed ruefully. "Distinguished or old?"

"How old are you anyway?" Andy asked in his usual direct style.

Thomas took a deep pull from his cigarette. "I'll be forty on Saturday."

"This Saturday? Why didn't you tell me?"

Thomas shrugged. "It's not important." But his look of dejection said differently.

That night after the others were all in bed, he slipped into Andy's room as was their custom. The older man had been quiet all during dinner. Andy hated to see him like that. "I wish you'd stop letting all this birthday business bother you."

"I'm sorry, Andy. I guess I haven't been much fun to be with lately."

"Don't say that. But it hurts to see you so unhappy."

"Poor little Andy."

Andy couldn't resist pointing out that he was actually taller than Thomas, a fact that he knew greatly vexed the underbutler.

"Yes, you're taller and thinner and younger, and you have more stamina."

Andy was surprised at that last remark, knowing how insatiable Thomas was in bed. "More stamina? I can hardly keep up with you. Now come here and show me."

The next day, Andy made his way to the kitchen where Mrs. Patmore and the kitchen maids were on their tea break. The cook smiled when she saw the footman, as he was one of her favorites. "Don't tell me you're hungry again. I wish I knew where you put it all," she said, handing him a warm biscuit.

He swallowed the biscuit in two bites. "Did you know that Saturday is Mr. Barrow's birthday? He's going to be forty."

"Is he now?" Mrs. Patmore still remembered his first day fifteen years earlier when he was barely older than Andy. It felt like yesterday.

Andy continued. "He's a little down about it, so I thought it might be nice if we had a party to cheer him up—nothing big, of course, maybe just some cake and punch after dinner."

"Oh, I see. And I suppose you expect me to make this cake and punch."

Andy fixed her with his sweetest smile. "If it wouldn't be too much bother."

"I could do it, Mrs. Patmore," Daisy volunteered. "I don't mind."

"Would you?" Andy gave her a grateful look.

The older cook looked up at Andy sympathetically. "It's a nice idea, lad, but I'm not sure anyone would care. Mr. Barrow isn't very popular around here, you know."

Andy acknowledged the truth of her words. "Maybe we can start to change that." He wished they all could see the kind and loving man he knew.

"You're a good friend, Andy," Daisy added.

Later, he ran into Miss Baxter going up the back staircase. "Did you know that Saturday is Mr. Barrow's fortieth birthday?"

"Is it really?" Miss Baxter had known the underbutler since childhood, having been a friend of his sister's when they were growing up.

"Daisy said she'd make a cake, and we're going to have a little party after dinner. Will you come?"

"Of course."

"Mr. Molesley too?"

Miss Baxter smiled slightly. "I'm sure I can convince him."

Andy continued on to the servants' hall where he found the Bateses. Anna was sewing a button onto a blouse belonging to Lady Mary while her husband looked on attentively. Andy told them of his plan and asked for their help. Bates bristled. "We like to get back to the cottage as soon as the family goes to bed."

Anna saw the look of disappointment on the footman's face. "Surely we can stay long enough to have a piece of cake and some punch, Mr. Bates."

Bates hated to waste a second of his time alone with Anna, especially to spend it with Thomas Barrow, but he loved his wife dearly and wanted to please her. "I suppose so," he agreed grudgingly.

Anna beamed at Andy. "So you can count us in."

Andy returned the smile and left to spread the word among the maids. He knew the hallboys would be there, too frightened of Thomas to refuse. That only left Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes. He thought he'd approach the housekeeper first, so she could help him persuade the curmudgeonly butler if necessary. He found her in her sitting room. "Can I please speak with you, Mrs. Hughes?"

She turned from her bookwork. "How can I help?"

Andy outlined his plan, watching her face drop.

"Does Mr. Barrow know about this?"

"No, it would be a surprise."

"I don't have a problem with it, but you'll have to ask Mr. Carson. I just hope you know what you're doing."

He cornered the butler in his pantry before the upstairs dinner. He detailed his plan once again, noting the growing look of distaste on Carson's face. _"A party? For Mr. Barrow? In the servants' hall?"_

"Not a party really, just some cake and punch after dinner. He's terribly down about turning forty."

"Is he now? Well, we can't have that," Carson spoke sarcastically.

Andy knew he was losing the battle, so he played his trump card. "Mrs. Hughes said it was alright with her."

"Then I wonder you felt the need to ask my permission. Oh, very well, you may have your cake and punch." He added, "But that's all, you understand."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson, and you'd be very welcome, of course."

The butler merely fixed him with a glacial stare. As Andy slunk from the room, he could hear the older man spit out the word "party."

* * *

Saturday finally arrived, and with it, Thomas' birthday. Early that morning, Andy presented him with a wrapped copy of _Great Expectations_ that the footman had found in the village. Thomas loved Dickens and was genuinely pleased with the gift. The rest of the day wore on much as usual.

Finally, the downstairs dinner was completed, and the table cleared. However, instead of the servants dispersing, most of them remained, chatting away in groups of two or three. Thomas didn't seem to notice anything amiss and retired to his rocking chair and newspaper. He held the paper up in front of him, preventing him from seeing the parade of kitchen maids sneaking in and out carrying plates and forks and cups. Andy brought in the heavy punchbowl, placing it gently on the table while Daisy followed behind him with the cake. When everything was in place, Andy called out to him, "Would you care to join us, Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas looked up disinterestedly and noticed the other servants all staring expectantly at him. Then his eyes alighted on the punchbowl and cake. "What's all this?"

Andy smiled at him. "We couldn't let your fortieth birthday go by without doing something special."

Thomas' mouth opened and closed rapidly; his endless reserve of caustic remarks had deserted him. He rose and abruptly left the servants' hall, brushing by the kitchen maids who were watching from the doorway. Mr. Bates rolled his eyes and muttered something to Anna. The other staff members looked questioningly at Andy. The footman called out to the departed underbutler, "Mr. Barrow?" but received no reply. By now, everyone was shuffling about uncomfortably, looking down at the table. "I'll be right back," Andy told them determinedly.

He took the back stairs two at a time and flung open the door of Thomas' room. The older man was seated on his bed staring at the floor. "I'm not going back down there."

"Yes, you bloody well are," Andy spoke angrily. "Daisy went to a lot of trouble, and everyone is waiting for you."

Thomas was taken aback by Andy's vehemence. "I suppose you put them up to it."

"I thought it would cheer you up a bit, but I might have known you'd act like this. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes tried to warn me, but I didn't listen—the more fool me."

"They're only there for you, not for me," Thomas observed shrewdly. "You must have had to do a lot of arm-twisting to get them to agree."

"No, not really—well, Mr. Bates wasn't too keen, I admit."

Thomas gave a bitter laugh. "I bet he wasn't the only one either. When will you realize they don't care about me?"

"They would if you ever gave them a chance." Andy was resolute. He was not about to let Thomas off the hook. "Come on. They're waiting."

"But what do I do? What do I say?" Thomas whined.

"Just try being nice to them for a change. Let's go." Andy pulled the other man upright. If need be, he was prepared to drag him down the four flights of stairs kicking and screaming. Thomas followed meekly behind Andy like a condemned man being led to the gallows. Before they entered the servants' hall, Andy gave him one last directive. "Smile." He adjusted his voice to sound jovial as they entered the room. "I've got him. Now we can begin."

As neither Mr. Carson nor Mrs. Hughes was in attendance, Thomas took his seat at the head of the table, wearing a painted-on expression of pleasure. Miss Baxter began to slice the cake while Andy ladled out the punch. Once everyone was served, Andy raised his glass in a toast. "Best wishes on your fortieth birthday. Here's to Mr. Barrow."

The others repeated, "To Mr. Barrow."

Thomas felt his pale skin reddening. He was sure this is what hell must be like. He swallowed the punch in one gulp, sadly noting that it contained no alcohol. Andy was so hopeless sometimes. He knew he was expected to say something heartfelt in response but was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, so he just mumbled a weak, "Thank you."

As everyone tucked into Daisy's delicious cake, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Thomas unbent enough to accept the many birthday wishes coming his way with a modicum of charm and grace. His smile gradually became less forced and more genuine. He even managed a small laugh as Miss Baxter regaled everyone with stories about him from long ago when he was still referred to as "little Tommy." Andy sat back observing the scene with an amused expression on his face. He knew Thomas well enough to see that he was really enjoying himself now. Instead of being on the outside, he actually seemed to belong for once which in turn, pleased the footman.

After the party broke up and the well-wishers straggled upstairs to bed, Thomas made his way to the kitchen where Daisy was just finishing up the dishes. "Can I help you with those?" he offered.

Daisy looked aghast. An underbutler doing the washing up? "I'm almost done, Mr. Barrow."

"I just wanted to thank you for making my cake and all. It was nice of you."

"I'm glad I finally got the chance to pay you back for taking me to the fair that time."

Now it was Thomas' turn to look shocked. "That must have been what, twelve—no—thirteen years ago now."

"I know, but I still think about it sometimes."

She still thought about a date with a man like him after all these years? Thomas realized then that although she had been very briefly married, it was the only time she'd ever gone out with a man. She had spent almost half of her young life down in that dark, gloomy kitchen cooking from morning to night. Compared to her, he'd had it pretty easy. He vowed to be kinder to her in the future.

Andy was waiting in the corridor when he exited the kitchen. "Are you ready to go up?"

Thomas shook his head. "Let's get some air first." He started for the back door and Andy followed. Thomas immediately lit up a cigarette. "I guess I ought to thank you for arranging all that."

"Does that mean you enjoyed yourself after all?" Andy asked teasingly.

"I liked the cake," Thomas growled.

"Admit it. You had a good time with the others."

Thomas wasn't ready to go that far. "Bates didn't stay long," he grumbled.

Andy sighed. With Thomas, it was always two steps forward and one step back, and it probably always would be, but at least he was making progress. "How does it feel to be forty?"

Thomas paused to seriously consider the question. "I don't know why I made such a fuss about it. Yes, my hair is turning gray, and my trousers are getting a bit tight, but none of that matters because I'm not alone anymore. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life, and it's all because of you."

Andy was touched by his words. "Let's go up to bed. I still have one more present to give you."

Thomas smiled broadly. "I hope we get to see more of take-charge Andy. You were pretty impressive earlier."

Andy grinned back. "You never know when he might show up again."


End file.
